


Last To Know

by mrsmcdarbear



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Drabble, F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-28
Updated: 2016-11-28
Packaged: 2018-09-02 18:56:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8679505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrsmcdarbear/pseuds/mrsmcdarbear
Summary: It wasn’t what she imagined. She thought when he’d say it, everything would be life and death, one of them covered in someone’s blood. Preferably, she’d be dying, because if not her, then probably him. Clarke was pretty sure someone had to die. Someone always died.orBellamy tells Clarke he loves her like it's no big deal and Clarke makes it  a big deal, because she's Clarke.





	

**Author's Note:**

> There's another story I haven't updated in a while, but I have been truly busy and this idea just got stuck in my head, so I figured the sooner I get it out, the sooner I can get back to other more important things.
> 
> This takes place sometime after season 2, except Clarke never left, because I said so. Don't ask questions.
> 
> I edited this since first posting. There's a few minor changes and cuts, but the story is mostly the same.

It wasn’t what she imagined. She thought when he’d say it, everything would be life and death, one of them covered in someone’s blood. Preferably, she’d be dying, because if not her, then probably him. Clarke was pretty sure someone had to die. Someone always died.

She was prepared for this.

Then the unexpected happened. The war ended, and while they waited for the next wave of impending doom, it never came. Things were quiet; and after a while, they were no longer surviving on the ground. They were just living there.

Clarke had no fucking clue how to do that.

 “I hate him,” she declared, as if saying it out loud would make it true.

“I sincerely hope you didn’t tell him that after . . . you know,” Raven twirled her hand in reference to, _the_ _incident._

“I would have,” she decided. “If he didn’t run away like the full grown man-child he is.”

 Both statements were a lie. Given the chance, she most definitely would not tell Bellamy she hated him, and he didn’t technically run away.

It was worse.

They were ending a particularly boring conversation about what medicinal plants he should keep an eye out for on their next supply run when he turned to her and said, “We’ll finish this later, Princess – love you," with a prompt kiss to her forehead. He then proceeded to stroll out of medical bay as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred. Like he didn’t just drop a bomb, destroying the carefully constructed, heavily armored walls Clarke built around her heart.

 Raven patted Clarke's hair, which was basically her interpretation of a hug. “Maybe you’re reading too much into this,” she suggested. “He tells Octavia he loves her all the time.”

“Please, tell me you aren’t suggesting he loves me like his sister?” she winced.

That would have smashed her newly unprotected heart into pieces.

“No, but men are idiots. And you guys are so domestic with each other as is, it probably just slipped out. It’s not like you didn’t know he loved you, Clarke.”

“I mean I knew, but I didn’t _know_.”

“Sure,” she said, not impressed in the slightest.

Clarke sighed, “It just wasn’t how pictured it.”

“Yeah, I always thought one of you idiots would be dying before you spit it out.”

“Right! That would have been less confusing,” Clarke groaned.

“Whatever,” Raven rolled her eyes. “You just hoped you’d be dying, so you wouldn’t have to find out what comes after.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’re scared, Clarke. You’re more scared of loving than you are of dying, which should tell you how fucked you are in the head.”

Clarke didn’t say much after that.

*

Three days passed and she was beginning to think that Raven was right and it really was just a slip of the tongue. Bellamy wasn’t acting any weirder than normal, despite her blushing and stumbling over words whenever he was around. She decided it was impossible for him to be this big of an idiot and assumed he was pretending not to notice. She didn’t know if she should be thankful or pissed off.

 “He’s trying to kill me,” Clarke opted after a particularly difficult day.

Raven turned the page to a book, not even bothering to look up at her intruder. Half the pages were missing, or ineligible, but everyone had a way of filling in the blanks to their liking. “Someone’s always trying to kill you, Wanheda.”

Clarke scoffed, “Wow. Your concern for my well being is heartwarming.”

Raven sighed, turning down the ear of the page she was on, like the thing couldn’t be any more damaged, and closed it. Dust erupted from the pages making Clarke cough and sneeze. Raven did something in between a smirk and a scowl. “Okay," she faltered, "I’ll bite. Who’s trying to kill you, Clarke?”

“Besides you? Bellamy, of course!” she replied, sniffling, twitching her nose. Raven’s lips quirked up, amused.

“Did he say it again?” she asked, suddenly alert.

“No.”

“Oh,” Raven frowned. “That was anti-climactic.”

Clarke huffed, “He keeps hanging around me like all the time. Everywhere I turn there he is! I almost poked someone’s eyeball out today while trying to give them stitches above their brow.” Clarke poked her forehead to indicate where, in case there was any confusion.

Raven tilted her head. “Doesn’t he always sort of hang around you though? It never bothered you before.”

“That was before he said what he said! And it’s not just that . . .”

“There’s more?”

“He – he touches me.”

Raven blinked a few times, then snorted. “I’m going to need more to go on, or I’m just going to assume naughty things that I’ll probably have to masturbate to later.”

“Ew!” Clarke pinched her. Raven slapped her hand away, petulant. “Not like that, Reyes. Just – every time he walks by, he like brushes up against me, squeezes my shoulder, or ruffles my hair – or something else equally infuriating.”

“That’s a shame.” Raven bit back a laugh, but her face betrayed her.

“It’s not funny!” she huffed, pulling her lips in pout.

“What’s not funny?” a familiar voice approached them from the side. He wasn’t wearing a shirt, and his chest was gleaming, and this was definitely how Clarke was going to die.

She squeaked and tried holding back the blush inching up her chest, threatening to color her cheeks. Bellamy took his place beside her, seemingly unaffected by her reaction. He nudged her over with his bare shoulder, one that she’s pretty sure just flexed for no reason. Goosebumps flared down her arms, as she clenched her fists together and focused on breathing like a normal human being.

Then Bellamy took a bite of his apple and licked the juice from his lips. So, naturally everything went downhill from there.

He paused when he saw Raven’s smug, toothy grin. “What?”

“Nothing,” she replied a little too sweetly, eyes flickering between him and hyperventilating Clarke. “We were just talking boys.”

Clarke choked on nothing, speeding up the dying thing. Bellamy grunted.

“What about them?” He asked, narrowing his gaze, as he took another bite, relishing the way it crunched under his teeth.

Raven leaned forward, crossing her arms on the table. “Well, you’re a dude. . .”

“Fair observation,” he noted. “What was your first clue?”

Raven trailed her eyes over his chest, unashamed. Clarke stopped breathing at some point, which was becoming a problem.

“Are you just going to sit there and eye fuck me, Reyes, or do you have a point?”

“Both,” she smirked. “So, tell us, Bell. What does it mean when a guy tells a girl, who he is _not_ fucking, that he loves her.”

Clarke jumped out of her seat, knocking into Bellamy causing him to drop his apple in the dirt. “What the –”

She made it about five steps to freedom, before tripping over a rock. The ground hated her, honestly.

Bellamy fell beside her, laying his palm on her back. “Hey, are you alright?” His voice was soft and deep and it dove straight into Clarke's core.

She mumbled something incoherent and tried shrugging him off, but he was much closer than she anticipated, so obviously she knocked her head back into his nose.

“Fuck,” he hissed, groping his face. Clarke stumbled to her feet, not bothering to survey the damage before fleeing towards the safety of the Ark, which was more than a bit ironic.

Both Raven and Bellamy called after her, but she was bit preoccupied, being in the middle of a panic attack and whatnot, so she didn’t stop running until she reached her room and barricaded herself inside, because that was clearly the mature thing to do.

Clarke truly did suck at living.

**Author's Note:**

> So, there should only be one more chapter to this fic. Honestly, I probably could've/should've waited until the rest of the story came to me and made this a one-shot, but I'm impatient and cruel, so you're welcome. :)


End file.
